Follow a dad's quest to feed his family well while navigating the supermarket aisles for the strange and new.

Coming off the high (or should I say low) that was National Relaxation Day, I have discovered the yen for something that restores, or spikes, my energy a bit. In general, I remain skeptical of energy drinks and the like, but in a pinch, can greatly appreciate their intended purpose – to get you off the floor and compel you to rejoin the human race. So for those averse to coffee, regular exercise, and a healthy sleep regimen, there is a riot of energy drinks out there calling for the tired, fatigued, huddled masses yearning to be perpetually awake.

Less a drink and more of a spike, HIJINKS: The Energy Drink mixer has an immediately illicit feel to it. Distributed in little fluid ounce bottles, this clear liquid looks distinctly like contraband, but in actuality it is the building block of your own energy drink. The idea behind HIJINKS (the name alone does not instill much consumer confidence) is that you can add this energy rich elixir to just about any liquid and instantly turn it into a powerful energy drink. With 200 mg of caffeine, and a blend of taurine (a common, and relatively benign, ingredient in energy drinks), L-carnitine (an amino acid), and a few other energy-friendly additives, you can control how much liquid energy and where it goes. This would naturally appeal to those who have grown tired of gimmicky energy drinks laden with sugar and artificial colors and flavors.

As far as the flavor goes, HIJINKS is billed as flavorless, which is not entirely the case. It has a syrupy, almost honeyed smell, and a slightly bitter cough syrup taste when consumed straight out of the bottle. However, when mixed with a more dominant liquid (e.g. fruit juice, etc) the flavor of HIJINKS is diminished, if not totally unnoticeable. And yes, HIJINKS lives up to its claims as a sort of liquid energy in a bottle. Not quite as volatile as a triple cappuccino with whip cream, HIJINKS does supply the sort of kick that inspires you to polish the silverware.

HIJINKS: The Energy Drink is available in single bottles (1.1-ounce for $2.99) and is sold at fitness stores, natural foods stores, and online.

Raise your hand if you ever tried to eat paste? Play-Doh? Crayons? I know, for many children, the candy-colored allure of Crayons can be undeniable, as they frequently beckon curious children to come nibble off the top a bit of the vibrant waxy goodness. But alas, Crayons are not food...until now.

The food and fashion site Luxirare recently unveiled their elegant version of the iconic Crayon, the only thing is that their interpretation is 100% edible. Made from ingredients like nuts, seeds, marshmallows, dried fruits, and bee pollen, the Luxirare Crayon resembles a more rough-hewn rendering of the waxy original. Pressed into a Crayon-like mold, the green version, for example, consists of peas, green beans, dried kiwi, green fruity pebbles, and dried pumpkin seeds. Other colors are made from a variety of ingredients with matching hues (corn, bananas, bee pollen, etc.) and all of the color sets are conceived, not so much by taste, but more by color.

The not so great news is that these highly innovative creations are not yet (and may never be) available for purchase. However, judging from the highly detailed process photos on the website, it may be easy enough to replicate the craft to make something good enough, or even better than the original, and there exist several other low-tech recipes for edible crayons all over the web.

The use of the word sandwich, at least in an idiomatic sort of way, denotes this idea of limitations and or distinct parameters; As in, "Texas children are sandwiched between hunger and obesity." On a more literal level, the idea of a sandwich is a sort of blank culinary canvas, or isle of creation, between two distinct borders (in this case the bread or bun) where any number of edibles can be thrown together to make a cohesive, and sometimes delicious, whole. We have seen a recent blurring of the lines recently with the standard border material (the breadstuff) falling away and making room for such creative interpretations as KFC's Double Down, as well as the Krispy Kreme burger.

Now from UK supermarket giant Tesco comes the "Las-andwich" which is…wait for it…wait for it…your own personalized lasagna in sandwich form. This sandwich (or "sarnie" as the British like to call sandwiches) was inspired by the sort of act that should be relegated to post late night drinking binge behavior: eating cold lasagna with bread. Tesco's Laura Fagan told the UK's News of the World, "The inspiration comes from my own student days and how certain foods could sometimes taste much better the next day - such as pizza, lasagne and even curry."

Essentially the Las-andwich is constructed with two thick slices of bread, a filling of diced beef in a tomato and herb sauce layered with cooked pasta sheets and finished with a cheddar, ricotta and mayonnaise dressing. No word yet on when the Las-andwich will float over stateside (right now it is only available at Tesco in the UK) but judging from the unceasing American hunger for all things sandwiched, it can't be long.

Marketing to children is distinctly and decidedly different that any sort of marketing to adults. Where would you see novelty marketing to grown adults taking advantage of products resembling body parts, snot, or just plain goo? In the arena of children's food taboo it is relatively non-existent. Adults angle for wholesome foods rich in antioxidants and vitamin content, while children happily eat things that look like they came from a Sponge Bob autopsy.

Pro Bugs by Lifeway, makers and purveyors of kefir products, is an enormously accessible, and one-handed, way for children to get their daily dosage of calcium, protein, and friendly bacteria. The friendly bacteria in this case is ten different live and active cultures that are said to promote all sorts of health benefits, including regulating digestive function and keeping less friendly bacteria in check.

These bursts of bugs are, to the untrained eye and palate, a whole lot like kid's yogurt, but without all of the artificial colors and sweeteners. This makes them appealing to concerned parents, but maybe not ultimately that appealing to children who have been conditioned to rainbow colored goo that looks and tastes like sludge from Candyland. However, with flavor names like "Goo Berry Pie" and "Sublime Slime Lime" you may be hitting children right in their subversive comfort zone.

When we are young, impressionable, and lured in by the sort of stuff that could only be described as "fantastic," we tend to gravitate toward products and experiences that are bright, colorful, and otherworldly. Once we have grown older, more jaded and exceedingly pragmatic, we tend to look past the pretty colors and flamboyance and try to locate the substance and importance of what life has to offer. If this were true, then would someone please explain colored bacon to me?

More of an art prank than an actual ready-for-prime-time product, graphic designer Neil Caldwell has brought a little light of the rainbow to, what would otherwise be, boring old brown fatty bacon. Dyed the colors of the rainbow, these bacon strips are sadly (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) are just a conceptual piece and not (yet) available for consumption by the bacon faithful  but just give it some time.

This colorful food development came on the heels of a report issued by the Center for Science in the Public interest, which stated that synthetic food dyes pose risks of cancer, hyperactivity in children and allergies. In addition, over in Europe, the European Union is now requiring food manufacturers to put a warning notice (may have an adverse effect on activity and attention in children) on most dyed foods.

As Americans with an insatiable hunger for the flamboyant and the exceedingly playful when it comes to our food, can we overlook artificially dyed products like Cupcake Pebbles with Colorful Sprinkles, or Kellogg's Disney Bolt Fruit Flavored Snacks for the sake of our health, and/or attention spans? Will we be lost in a monochromatic abyss of browns and grays without our beloved Red 40, Yellow 5, and Blue 1 food dyes?

For years, maybe centuries, the red apple has stood as the emblem of everything from goodness to sin. The red apple is a stand in for desire as well as the nickname for New York City (OK, it is the "Big Apple" but everyone knows it is a decidedly red apple and no Granny Smith). Now comes news from the UK (by way of Switzerland) that apple breeder Markus Kobelt has lovingly developed a red-skinned and red-fleshed apple called the Redlove Era.

Unlike the white flesh you may have grown accustomed to, the Redlove Era has a sort of reddish-pink marbled flesh (with a bit of white flesh thrown in for the sake of contrast) and as a result (maybe not a direct result) the Redlove Era (an alleged cross-pollination of Royal Gala and Braeburn apples) has a higher antioxidant content (there still exists a bit of mystery around this particular variety). Another key selling point for this red apple is that the flesh purportedly doesn't go brown after being sliced and left out in the open. Also, the Redlove Era is supposedly sweet, tangy and amazingly delicious.

The sad news is that, while UK shoppers can look forward to biting the Redlove in the coming months, we Americans, hungry for red flesh, may have to wait a year or longer for the import. For those of you that are enormously curious (or impatient) and just can't wait for a taste, you could order a sapling and possibly grow your own.

Redlove Era apples are being marketed by Suttons in the UK, and will hopefully make their U.S. debut in the coming year.

Well, until that happens you can still make great stuff with regular ole apples. 45 recipes. Check it.

When considering the venerable and ubiquitous Gatorade, many adjectives come to mind: cooling, hydrating, and satisfying to name a few. However, natural is not a word that I instinctively associate with this thirst-quenching product that most closely resembles antifreeze. I never faulted Gatorade for being anything less than it purported to be (an expeditious way to replenish lost fluids and salt to a fatigued and dehydrated body), so the concept of Gatorade Natural struck me as more or less unnecessary.

But in a response to the growing natural foods sector, Gatorade has gone "natural" with a new line of Gatorade Natural. Largely aimed at the athletic market, Gatorade Natural is part of their Perform series of drinks intended to be consumed while you are working your tail off running, climbing, spelunking, or trying to contain a large-scale oil spill. The idea, as with virtually all Gatorade drinks and products, is that the drink does two essential jobs: replenishes fluids as well as electrolytes to hard working athletes.

The main difference between this "natural" Gatorade and the original is that version does not have high fructose corn syrup, nor does it hold that otherworldly glow that so identified the original. Instead Gatorade Natural Orange Citrus is moderately sweet and the color of severely diluted orange juice. But with sucrose, dextrose (both naturally occurring, but highly processed forms of sugar), citric acid, sea salts and natural flavor to round out the ingredients (no fruit juice to speak of), I wouldn't exactly deem it a "natural drink" (as we have learned, "natural flavors" are a very loose designate). However, this more "natural" version is likable enough (if you are a dehydrated athlete in 95 degree weather), and likely preferable (as far as ingredients and additives) to the original version.

Gatorade Natural Orange Citrus also comes in a G2 low calorie Berry flavor (both come in 16.9-ounce bottles for $1.49) and are being sold exclusively at Whole Foods Markets.

Our bodies are made of 70% water, which means that, by volume, our glass is much more than half full. This means that we, as humans, are optimists by design (if you accept this sort of deductive logic) and we need to keep the water flowing in (and out) of our bodies regularly. You could turn on the tap, but that gets dull real fast. You could pay for filtered water, which seems almost a waste. Or you could step it up and spring for one of the many, many, many flavored waters out there.

Metromint is bottled water, but not simply bottled water. Packaged in a sleek, clear bottle with contemporary flair, Metromint is mint infused water that relies on the mint, rather than sweeteners and extraneous flavors, to provide a particular kind of refreshment. It is distinctly minty, but not aggressively so, and, when sufficiently cold, makes for an almost titillating experience as it gets poured down your gullet.

Of the six flavors, the more straightforward mint flavors are the best of the bunch (Peppermint, Spearmint, and Lemonmint) as they are simple, balanced, and taste like the relative purity of their ingredients. The other three (Orangemint, Cherrymint, and Chocolatemint) are, while a little more inspired in their scope, are less successful and have the tendency to taste a little inauthentic.

Metromint is sold in 16.9-ounce bottles ($1.69 per bottle) and is available at Gristide's, Whole Foods Market, Jewel-Osco, Ralph's, and Vons.

With the days of the Automat firmly behind us, and vending machines being a virtual ghetto of fortified soda and salty snacks, Americans still yearn for food that is not just insanely convenient, but food that is fairly insane in concept. Nevermind things like quality, nutrition, or even pleasure, Americans want a high concept, low priced, and utterly novel way of eating and drinking. Two new items (one of which is still in the larval stage waiting for its debut) have bolstered the idea of vending machine fare and elevated it (or maybe dishonored it) to a degree of total absurdity.Candwich is exactly what it sounds like; it is a canned sandwich. The Candwich, which recently became available for purchase, is hoping to provide fresh-like sandwiches for all via a can. Advertised as having a long shelf life and "perfect for emergency food storage needs in the event of a natural disaster" (a sizable cataclysm and a bout of desperation might be the only thing that would drive someone to pop open a can?), the Candwich comes in three varieties: BBQ Chicken, Peanut Butter and Strawberry Jam, and Peanut Butter and Grape Jam. Another selling point for this innovative product is the promised "candy surprise inside," as if a canned sandwich wasn't enough to lure you in.

If you find yourself a bit dry mouthed and wanting after finishing one or two Candwiches, you might want to try a long-stemmed glass of Le Froglet, the single-serve wine in a glass that is currently making a splash in London, and rumored to be on its way to vending machines in Pennsylvania (an enterprising loophole in the state's longstanding and confusing liquor laws). Whether the concept of single-serving plastic wine glasses with foil tops ever catches on with American consumers remains to be seen, but if our collective, if not misguided, love for anything and everything disposable and single-serving is any indication, then we can bank on a steady diet of caned sandwiches and plastic stemware.

Gelato had its American heyday in the late 1980s, as most Americans had grown tired and bored of run-of-the-mill frozen yogurt and desperately needed an ice cream alternative that wasn't all that fatty. Gelato became popularized and aggressively marketed, and soon people were paying 50% more to eat little scoops of ice cream with Lilliputian spoons. The appeal of gelato was, in addition to its Italian pedigree, that it was made with less butterfat than conventional ice cream and was more dense and rich despite this omission.

Some twenty-odd years later, Texas gelato company Talenti (I know Texas and gelato sound incompatible) has brought forth a new freezer-aisle product that does away with some of the gelato pretense and instead offers up something worth getting excited about. Talenti Gelato has at least 30% less fat than traditional ice cream (the specifics of fat content, overrun, and ice crystals in ice cream is fascinating stuff, but best left for another blog post altogether), is made with hormone-free dairy and natural ingredients, and is handsomely packed in clear pint-sized tubs that allow you to plainly see the density and integrity of the gelato.

There are about twenty different flavors, ranging from the traditional Chocolate Hazelnut to a Malaysian Mango Sorbetto, and each has its virtues, but some are truly exceptional. The Mediterranean Mint, Sicilian Pistachio, Black Cherry, and Blood Orange are all standouts and, as with all of the other flavors, are made with choice imported ingredients (e.g. Tahitian vanilla beans, Belgian chocolate, fresh-squeezed lemon, and roasted hazelnuts).

Talenti Gelato sells for $5.99 a pint, and is available at Cub Foods, HyVee, Gelson's, Publix, Fairway, and Kroger.

A damn fine company, School House Kitchen out of Brooklyn, New York is the kind of small food producer that effortlessly straddles the line between tried and true tradition and inspired innovation. While making great mustards, salad dressings, and chutneys are their splendid priority, making a difference by raising funds for local New York farm-based educational organizations is also a main concern for this petite manufacturer. Thankfully, just about everything they jar and slap a label on is worth investigating and enjoying.

The latest offerings from Schoolhouse Kitchen are their collection of Anytime Spreadable Fruits. While at first glance they seem to be nothing more than finely crafted fruit preserves, a closer inspection of the label reveals some not so traditional fruit and herb and spice combinations: Strawberry Black Peppercorn, Peach Rosemary, Rhubarb Raspberry Thyme, and Cherry Blackberry Sage & Clove. Hardly conventional fare for, say, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (but certainly not discouraged).

The Strawberry Black Peppercorn is the most distinct, as it relies on the mild kick of ground black peppercorns to bring out the natural sweetness of the strawberries (not recommended for children with a sensitivity to spicy foods). The Peach Rosemary seems to be calling out for a savory accompaniment (maybe roasted lamb?) and is an exceptionally balanced and nuanced concoction. The Rhubarb Raspberry Thyme is subtle enough to be mistaken for a simple, but delightful, raspberry rhubarb spread (nothing wrong there), and the Cherry Blackberry Sage & Clove is rife with dark fresh berries (the blackberries dominate here) with a pleasant clove after effect.

I am the first to admit I am extremely jaded when it comes to energy drinks and sophisticated sodas. It is not that I have anything against the idea of sophisticated sodas, or energy for that matter, I just find that more often than not, I am left utterly flat by the lack of vision involved. Thankfully, Solixir (a product name that raised more suspicion than interest) breathes a bit of new life into an otherwise anemic carbonated beverage market. Less of an energy drink than it is a sophisticated soda, Solixir is a botanical soda that puts the emphasis on the botanicals. With ingredients like yerba maté, elderberry, dandelion root, and turmeric, this is assuredly no Vitamin Water or Red Bull.

Available in three flavors (Awaken Orange Maté, Restore Pomegranate Ginger, and Relax Blackberry Chamomile — each of which holds a certain connotation or promise as indicated by the name), Solixir is enjoyable in part because of what it is not — exceedingly sweet. The Orange Maté is crisp, almost alkaline, and bright with almost more of a grapefruit flavor than a true orange flavor. The Pomegranate Ginger variety is equally crisp, but more akin to clean seltzer water with an essence of ginger and pomegranate thrown in. The Blackberry Chamomile is the most well balanced of the collection, and possesses a distinct blackberry flavor with an almost spicy botanical character. Each of these flavors is packaged in a slim and tall aluminum can, free of added sugar, 70 percent sparkling water and 30 percent fruit juice, and is caffeine free (except for Awaken Orange Maté, which has 30 mg of caffeine — a fraction of what you would find in a cup of green tea).

Solixir sparkling botanicals are sold individually (about $2 each) and are sold at select Whole Foods Markets.

The annual Fancy Food Show filled Jacob Javitz glass house this week, overlooking New York City's heavily trafficked Hudson River, with all manner of pickles, popcorn, crackers, malt, and lavender soda. For those of you who have never had the pleasure, the annual Summer Fancy Food Show is a subterranean gauntlet of gourmet products that range from the sublime (all manner of artisinal cheeses) to the outlandish (vomit flavored jelly beans). Retailers, consumers, and food pundits alike sometimes use the NYC Fancy Food Show (as well as the Winter Fancy Food Show in San Francisco) as a sort of trend barometer for the coming year. Walking the aisles, tasting, walking, sampling, chasing samples of Dutch cheese with Korean energy tea, I was struck by how this particular show seemed to be a little less cohesive, a little less trend-oriented, and whole lot more random in its offerings. But of course there was bacon.

While I refuse to name bacon the hot trend of the year, as it has been semi-buzz worthy for a little over five years, I will say the fascination with all things bacon has endured with great brio. Bacon finds its way into just about everything. Bacon chocolate, bacon booze, and bacon mayonnaise were in the mix. The latter (Baconnaise), was something that was around last year (and maybe the year before) and still gets a chuckle, as well as some deserved attention. The creators of J&D's Baconnaise (appropriately two bacon loving guys named Justin and Dave) passed me their newest bacon-themed product (this is following bacon salt and bacon-flavored popcorn), bacon lib-balm. While it is certainly not edible, this lip balm smells, and somewhat tastes like you think a bacon lip balm would.

Another bacon-themed item was the strange and novel Microwave Bacon Krisps. A somewhat bizarre invention (product of Brazil and made by ACME import co.) that consists of one microwaveable bag that, after a minute, produces crunchy synthetic bacon-like strips (bacon as interpreted by a child armed with primary colored Crayons and packing foam) that are funny as all synthetic bacon can be.

Another recent addition to the bacon pantheon, but was sadly absent at the Fancy Food Show, was simply Bakon, the bacon-flavored vodka by Black Rock Spirits. Simply put, this is potato vodka with a savory bacon flavor. Ideal for bloody marys and other carnivorous cocktails.

While true innovation and notable trends may have been outwardly missing at this year's show, the bacon was assuredly in bloom.

Ben & Jerry's, long the touchstone for crunchy (literally) and lefty (figuratively) business practices, has long ago shed its small town Vermont roots and moved into the big time. Some critics like to claim that the company has lost its way, while others say they are just as good, if not better, than they have ever been. Releasing a new flavor, in what seems like, every few weeks, Ben & Jerry (in name only) have carved out somewhat of an Ice Cream empire (a benevolent empire to be certain).

Their benevolence is extending into a partnership of sorts with Target (another company that enjoys a great deal of brand loyalty) to create two new ice cream flavors with an emphasis on volunteerism. Brownie Chew Gooder and Berry Voluntary (not all that subtle, I know) are the latest flavors to hit the freezers (exclusively Target freezers). The Brownie Chew Gooder is seemingly a vanilla caramel ice cream with fudge brownie pieces, while the Berry Voluntary is a raspberry cheesecake ice cream with white chocolate chunks (for the record, I have yet to sample either one of these new flavors), both of which seem like fairly standard fare for Ben & Jerry's.

However, the catch (or the appeal, I should say) is that both of these flavors are part of a "Scoop it Forward" campaign that is engineered to encourage volunteerism. Hungry ice cream lovers are encouraged to visit a special website to volunteer. After you register for a volunteer activity, and then forwarding the opportunity to five friends (I guess this is the "scoop it forward" part), you and your friends will be rewarded with a coupon for a free pint of Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream (to be had at your local Target). No word on whether you, as a potential do-gooder, would actually need to follow through with your voluntary commitments, but let's hope that ice cream (the lure or ultimate consumption) would work as the great motivator.

Ben & Jerry's Brownie Chew Gooder and Berry Voluntary are available for purchase at Target (if you don't care to volunteer for your ice cream) and sold for $3.99 a pint.

In my informal estimate, probably no more than 5% of the country has actually sampled foie gras (literally French for "fatty liver" and is a pâté-like made from the enlarged livers of male ducks) however I would venture to guess that quite a bit more than 5% of the population has a strong opinion about the product. Foie Gras is what you would call a delicacy, but a delicacy that comes at a price (literally and figuratively) as it doesn't come cheap (decent foie gras can run upwards of $100 a pound) and its cultivation is achieved through ritual force feeding, and general inhumane treatment of ducks and geese. To say that the production and sale of foie gras is controversial would be the culinary understatement of the year.

But foie gras has its appeal, and if it didn't taste so darn good, people probably wouldn’t bother eating it – right? Thankfully, for those of you that eat with ethics in mind, are vegetarians, or just simply cannot stomach paying out the nose for fatty enlarged duck liver, there is Faux Gras. As the name would imply, Faux Gras is neither "foie" nor "gras" as it is a wholly vegan facsimile of the reviled animal product. It is assembled from toasted walnuts, caramelized onions, and lentils, and looks just like the real thing – buttery, creamy, and indulgent. It has a distinct mushroom and onion flavor along with an almost indescribable animal richness that, needless to say, is not in the least animal derived.

Fantastic on crackers, on toasted bread, sandwiches, what have you, this more palatable alternative to the questionable original goes well beyond fake food of any kind.

Faux Gras is available in 8-ounce containers (priced between $5 and $8 depending on the whim of the store) and is sold at Lifethyme Natural Market, Westerly Market, Pacific Green Foods and online.

Travel down the grocery aisles with Eric as he keeps an eager, but skeptical, eye on the merchandise and foodstuff that fill the grocery shelves. Learn what's hot, what's not, and what's just plain weird, as he obsessively reads labels, admires packaging, dismisses misleading marketing ploys, and takes you along for some serious yet fun food shopping.
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